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Young Folks Library of Choice Literature 


Mewa 

ZLbe Cbilb of tbe flbueblos 


BY 

HELEN L. CAMPBELL 


EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
BOSTON 

New York Chicago San Francisco 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 


FEB 9 1906 


CLASS CC XXc, No. 

S3 oof 

^ COPY B. 




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Copyrighted 


By EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 


1903 


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WEWA AND THU It- BE-SAY 



STORY OF WEWA 

The Child of the Pueblos. 


Little Wewa crept through the low doorway of his father’s 
dwelling, and stood upon the roof of the neighbor’s house who 
lived in the story below. Stepping upon a low stone bench, 
which was built against the side of the house, he leaned back 
against the wall and looked far off across the dreary plain. 

Soon his little sister, Thur-be-say (“ Rainbow-of-the-Sun ”), 
came out, and clambered up beside him, dangling her fat little 
legs over the side of the bench. Wewa laid one hand gently 
upon her thick, black hair, as she leaned her head against him. 
With the other hand he pushed back his queer, big hat, which 
had slipped down so far, he could scarcely see. 

Wewa is a sturdy, brown little fellow with ke3n, black eyes, 
and straight, black hair. Though he wears such strange-looking 
trousers, and lives in such a very strange house, still he is just 
as full of noise and mischief, just as ready for play, or for a 
day’s ride on his faithful burro, as any boy could be, who had 
whiter skin, or wore better trousers. 


5 



THE PUEBLO WHERE WEWA LIVED 




STORY OF WEWA 


7 


Although W ewa has a brown skin, and his people are called 
Indians, he is really a pure American. His forefathers were 
among the very first settlers of North America, and the village 
or little city in which he lives is much older than any town 
built by white people in North America. 

Long before Christopher Columbus sailed across the ocean 
and discovered a new world, little Wewa’s ancestors were build- 
ing their cities, and cultivating their farms and gardens. They 
were citizens of this continent many years before the Dutch 
sailed into New York harbor, or the Pilgrims landed upon 
Plymouth Rock. His people have been here so many centuries 
that all history of their first settlements is lost; no legend or 
tradition remains to tell us who they were, or from whence they 
came. 

Nearly five hundred years ago, when Spain claimed nearly 
all the American continent, bands of Spaniards wandered across 
that part of the United States, which was once called the Great 
American Desert, or the Painted Desert. This great plain lies 
in the territories of Arizona and New Mexico. The Spaniards 
called the passage across that plain, the u Jornado del Muerto ,” 
or “ Journey of Death,” as indeed it proved to be, to many of 
their band. 

Oh, those old Spanish explorers ! How ready they were to 
risk everything — home, friends, even life itself — in the search 


8 


STORY OF WE WA 


for gold and jewels, for fame and fortune, for Church and 
King ! Wherever the King bade them go, they went ; wher- 
ever the Cross led, they followed. Though we know now, how 
cruel, and treacherous, and greedy for gold, they were, we 
must still admire the courage and endurance that carried them 
through so many perils and helped them to bear so much 
suffering. 

Upon lofty mountains, and in lowly valleys ; over fertile 
plains and barren deserts ; through pathless forests and beside 
swift, rushing rivers, was heard the tramp of their feet, and the 
blast of their bugles. On the hot, desert plain, or upon the 
wind-swept summit of the mountains, they unfurled the banner 
of Spain, and raised the symbol of the Cross. They were the 
first white people who visited that part of our country, and they 
found the ancestors of Little Wewa, living in the same towns, 
or houses, where you may see them to-day, if you will visit that 
part of your native land. 

When the Spaniards visited North America, they found 
two classes of Indians living here. One class wandered over 
the forests and plains, hunting and fishing, and building their 
houses, or wigwams, of barks or the skins of wild animals. The 
others built towns or villages of wood and stone, and cultivated 
fields and gardens around them. Those who roamed from 
place to place, the Spaniards called “ Salvajos,” or “Wild Indi- 


STORY OF WEWA 


9 



ans ; those who built houses and villages, they called “ Pueblos,” 
or “ Town-dwellers.” These last are the people of little Wewa. 


They were very thrifty, industrious people, raising grain 
and fruit, and making clothing from the skins of animals, and 
from cloth of their own weaving. For besides being the oldest 
inhabitants, and the first settlers, of this country, little Wewa’s 
people are also the oldest manufacturers in America. 


Pueblo Woman spinning Woo A 



10 


STORY OF WEWA 


Long before the hum of busy spindles and the jar of 
looms were heard in the great factories of the eastern states, 
Wewa’s ancestors were spinning yarn, and weaving gayly 
colored blankets on the queerest of looms. They also wove 
mats and baskets of grass and reeds, and the baskets were 
woven so snug and close, that they used them to carry water. 
Then they made earthen jars and dishes, and painted pretty, 
bright-colored patterns on them. 

They were also great merchants, or traders, carrying their 
goods to other Indian tribes, and exchanging them for articles 
not found in their own land. 

Over the mountains and barren plains of Arizona and New 
Mexico, along the valleys and mountain ranges of California, 
across the broad prairies of Colorado, Kansas, and Texas, 
are hundreds of ancient trails. These trails have been worn 
deep into the rocks and sand by the thousands of feet, 
bare and brown, or wearing soft moccasins of deer skin, that 
have travelled to and fro along these paths for many 
centuries. 

The shells and shell-work, gay feathers, and stone arrow- 
heads of California ; the beautiful turquoise stones, gay blankets, 
and painted earthen-ware of New Mexico and Arizona, have 
been found all through the Mississippi valley, and far north, 
along the shores of the great Lakes, while in the homes of the 


STORY OF WEWA 


11 


Pueblo Indians, have been found copper from the mines of the 
Lake Superior country, and lead from the Illinois. 

The Spaniards built chapels, and Spanish soldiers compelled 
the Pueblo Indians to attend their services, and listen to the 
teaching of their priests. The Indians were quiet and peaceful ; 
they made no complaint, and attended the chapel services, but 
in their hearts they remembered their own religion, and in secret 
taught it to their children. But the Spanish rule grew more 
cruel and oppressive, and after nearly three hundred years of 
patient endurance, the Pueblo Indians rebelled against their 
oppressors, and drove them from their land. 

Now nothing is left to show that once the Spaniards ruled, 
except the ruins of their chapels, the grain which they taught 
the Indian to raise, and the fruit trees and grape vines they 
brought to him. Sometimes you will see around the neck of 
some young Indian girl, a string of brown beads, with a little 
silver cross attached. It is the rosary of some long-forgotten 
Spanish priest, who taught the forefathers of these people, 
centuries ago. 

But these traditions and relics of old times have little in- 
terest for Wewa and his playmates. They care more for the 
play and fun of to-day than for old-time stories. Wewa came 
out upon the house-top early this morning, hoping that he and 
little Arna, the boy who lives in the rooms below, will be al- 





GOING TO WORK 


■- - — - 



STORY OF WEWA 


13 


lowed to go to the fields. The fields are far across the sands, by 
the side of the river. Corn and beans are growing in the fer- 
tile soil of the valley, and the peach trees are bending with the 
weight of green fruit. 



SWEEPING THE HEARTH. 

Soon the men come out of their houses. The old governor 
tells each one what his task for the day will be. With spade 
and hoe and ox-yoke in their hands, laughing and chatting to- 
gether, the men climb down the ladders, and start for the place 
of their day’s labor. 


14 


STORY OF WEWA 


Wewa’s mother, and some other women of the village, will 
follow the men, in a little while, and prepare their dinner down 
in the fields. But first the house must be put in order, the gay 
blankets folded and laid in a pile, ready to make their beds at 



WEWA AND Ills MOTHER AND SISTER. 


night. The hearth must be swept clean, for the women of 
Wewa’s nation are very neat, and keep their rooms very clean. 

After her work was done, Wewa’s mother took him and 
Thur-be-say on the donkey with her, and they rode away to the 



STORY OF WEWA 


15 


fields, leaving the baby with the grandmother. Arna rode with 
them on the little donkey he calls his own, and which often 



ARNA. 


comes to the door of the room and looks in, hoping to find his 
young master. 

Slowly the donkeys pick their way through the rubbish of 
the courtyard, and descend the rocky path. The village is built 



16 


STORY OF WEWA 


upon the top of the mesa. As they come out into the narrow 
roadway that leads down to the plain, they can see? miles away, 
another village built upon a still higher mesa than their own. 

There are twenty-six of these quaint old towns, and the 
people visit and trade back and forth with one another. All 
around them lie the vast, silent plains, where only the cactus can 
find life and nourishment in the desert soil, and the rattlesnake 
is the only inhabitant. 

For miles and miles the gray sand stretches out on every 
side. With its drifting cloud-shadows, and waves of heat waver- 
ing and changing in the burning sunlight, it seems like some 
great, restless ocean ; an unbounded sea of sand, across which 
no one may venture. 

But across the changing sands and masses of gray rock, 
through cactus and sage brush, the trail, made by centuries of 
patient travel, winds along. Wewa and his mother ride on, 
with no thought of the dreary country around them. It is 
home and native land to them, and they would choose no other 
place, if they could. 

Soon Wewa’s father passes them, riding his pony; he has 
been sent out hunting, and will return in the evening, perhaps, 
with a rabbit over his shoulder. At the bottom of the mesa, 
they stop to water the donkeys at the great reservoir or spring 
among the rocks, and soon after a pack train comes from the 


STORY OF WE WA 


17 


pueblo, and stops for water. The patient donkeys are loaded 
with bags of grain, rolls of blankets, and baskets and mats, 
made from the long, tough grass which grows in the distant 
valleys. 



WE WAS FATHER. 


Every one must do a share of the day’s labor ; for there are 
no drones, no idlers, in these curious towns, these great hives of 
human bees. All are laborers ; and all obey the commands of 
the governor of their little community. 

They are not like the wild Indians of the plains, who leave 


18 


STORY OF WEWA 



all the work to the women ; the Moqui 
or Pueblo Indian would be ashamed to 
do that. The men who are too old to 
work in the fields, or go with the pack 
trains to the nearest white man’s town, 
to buy those articles which they cannot 
provide for themselves, sit in the rooms 
and spin, or weave, or knit. The herd- 
ers, who drive the cows and sheep to 
the nearest pasture, often take their 
knitting work with them. While watch- 
ing the cattle, lest they stray from the 
herd and are lost, they knit the coarse, 
strong stockings which they all wear. 

As the patient little donkey follows 
the path to the distant fields, Wewa 
turns to look back at his home, perched 
upon the top of the mesa, like an a herder. 

eagle’s nest upon some lofty mountain peak. Then, though 
he nearly slips off the hack of the little donkey in doin cr so, 
he waves his hand to the watchman, who sits upon the highest 
part of the house-top. 

The watchman is an old, old man ; hut his eyes are keen 
and bright. Should a band of Navajos, or Apaches, come 


STORY OF WEWA 


19 


riding across the plain, lie would see them long before they 
reached the mesa. The alarm would then be given, the ladders 
drawn up, and the gateway barred, completely shutting out the 
enemy. 

Then Wewa turns to look at another rock which rises 
seven hundred feet into the air, not far from the mesa upon 
which his own home is built. That is the mesa Encantata, 
(enchanted table-land), and his great-grandfather has many 
times told him the story of that strange rock, rising so abruptly 
from the desert sands. 

Many hundreds of years ago, great torrents of water swept 
through the valleys, destroying everything in their path. From 
the tops of the great mountains rising in towers, domes and 
spires upon either side of the plain, fire and smoke poured forth 
night and day. The forefathers of Wewa sought refuge from 
these dangers upon the summit of the Encantata. 

Here they lived in peace and safety for many generations. 
The great leaning rock upon one side of the Encantata, made 
a “ stone ladder,” solid and secure for the patient feet of those 
who daily climbed the steep stairway, laden with food and water 
from the valleys below. 

After a long time the people built a summer home beside 
a stream running through a fertile valley, some miles from the 
Encantata. Here in summer they pastured their flocks and 


20 


STORY OF WEWA 


herds, and planted their fields and gardens, returning to their 
lofty home for the winter months. 

Then came a summer when for a long time no rain fell, 
and the fertile valley was almost as dry and desolate as the gray 
sands of the desert. Still these people carried water from the 
river, and from streamlets and springs far away, and strove to 
keep alive their gardens and fields of grain. 

One night a terrible storm arose, and the wind swept 
fiercely over the plains, and through the mountain gorges. 
Their little valley was protected from the wind, but the tor- 
rent of rain beat down their crops, and swept away many 
of their adobe houses. Sadly the people gathered together 
what was left of their crops and herds, and returned to their 
home upon the great rock. But, alas ! storm and wind 
had done their work here also, and the leaning rock, the 
stone staircase, the only road by which their lofty home could 
be reached, lay shattered upon the plain, and they were 
homeless. 

But the people were not discouraged. Quietly, patiently, 
they went to work cutting steps in the solid sandstone, and 
clearing a pathway through sand and broken rocks to the top of 
the great Acoma rock. This rock is four hundred feet high, 
with an area of seventy acres upon its top. Here they built a 
new home ; and here, for over four hundred years their people 


STORY OF WEWA 


21 


have lived and died in this strange city o£ the rocks ; this wind- 
swept town almost above the clouds. 

Looking back at his lofty home, thinking of what his people 
have accomplished by their patience and industry, little Wewa 
feels just as proud of his nation, as the little white boy does of 
his, when listening to the stories of Concord and Lexington, or 
looking at the Banker Hill monument. 

By this time our little Indians have reached the fields where 
their father and older brothers are at work. Outside the low 
wall, built of mud and stones, which surrounds their fields and 
gardens, they turn their donkeys loose to feed on the coarse 
grass growing in scattered bunches upon the sandy plain. Then 
the baskets are carried into the garden, and sitting under the 
shade of the peach or pear trees, they eat their dinner together. 

They have corn bread, baked in thin sheets on hot stones, 
and then rolled up closely ; graham bread, baked in the curious 
dome-shaped ovens ; beans stewed with peppers and onions ; beef, 
or mutton, which has been cut into thin strips and quickly dried 
in the hot air of the desert. Perhaps they also have dried peaches 
or apricots, that have been stewed in one of the pretty earthen 
bowls, which the Pueblo women make of clay, and paint with 
the end of a small stick. 

After dinner the men return to their work, hoeing the corn 
and beans, or turning the water from the river into the little 


22 


STORY OF WEWA 


ditches running through the gardens, and watering the melon, 
pumpkin, and squash vines, which already cover the ground with 
their broad, green leaves. 



BAKING POTTERY. 


The land beside the river, or that which lies below a large 
reservoir, can be watered by irrigation ; that is, by water carried 
in little ditches through the fields and gardens to the roots of 
the thirsty plants and vines. But not all the land can he 


STORY OF WEWA 


23 


watered in this way, for some of it lies far from the reservoirs, 
and higher than the rivers. Here they must depend upon the 
dew, or occasional showers of rain to make their seeds and 
plants grow. 

Sometimes when the summer is very hot and dry, the 
women will carry water from the rivers or reservoirs, in great 
“ Tinajos,” or water- jars, and water the corn, and beans, and 
vines, so that they may not die. Though these tinajos are 
large and heavy, the women will balance them, full of water, 
upon their heads, and walk so straight and steady, never touch- 
ing the jars with their hands, that not a drop of water will be 
spilled. 

Wewa and Arna run through the garden, paddling in the 
little streams of water. Sometimes they stop to build a tiny dam, 
just as little white boys love to do. Then they splash and 
bathe in the cool river. When they are tired, they climb to 
the top of the rock where one of the men is always stationed 
to watch for the wild Navajos. 

These are a tribe of hostile Indians who delight to sweep 
down upon the poor Pueblo Indians. They rob their orchards, 
trample their fields and gardens, and drive off their ponies and 
cattle. 

The visits of the Navajos are dreaded by the Pueblo 
Indians, for thev are often left without horses, sheep or cattle, 


24 


STORY OF WEWA 



and must go to work and make money enough to buy more. 
Sometimes they complain to the government, and perhaps horses 
and cattle will be given them to replace those which the Navajos 


have stolen, or the United States soldiers may be sent after the 
thieves, to make them return the stolen property if it can be 
found. 

Little Thur-be-say sits in the shade, making mud pies, and 


STORY OF WEWA 


25 


spreading them upon a flat stone to dry. Was there ever a 
little girl who did not love to make mud pies ? The delight of 
the small cook is the same, whether she is a little brown girl 
spreading mud upon a flat stone to dry, or a little white girl 
patting the mud in a little round tin and turning it out to dry 
upon a shingle. 

At last the sun sinks behind the tops of the distant moun- 
tains, and their great shadows stretch slowly across the desolate 
sands, until river, fields, and gardens are shaded. The busy 
workmen know it is now time to leave their toil, and turn their 
steps homeward. Then the women gather up their baskets and 
their babies, the boys bring the patient little donkeys to the 
garden wall, and they are soon riding toward the mesa. The 
children laugh and chatter as gayly as their white brothers and 
sisters do, when returning from a picnic. 

These little brown children have merry times playing 
together. Their parents are very kind to them, and a Pueblo 
child is scarcely ever punished, and seldom needs to be. 
Obedience to parents, and respect for the aged, seems to be 
born in these queer little Americans, and they never forget it. 
There is not a “ spoiled child ” to be found among them. Even 
the little, fat, black-eyed babies do not kick and cry as most 
babies do ; though that may be because they are so well cared for. 

The only cradle of the Pueblo babies is a board cushioned 


26 


STORY OF WEWA 



with moss and grasses. They are wrapped in soft skins and 
fastened to it with embroidered bands. It is then hung from 
a bough of the peach tree, that baby may swing in the shade, 
or from the low rafters of the room, where the wondering eyes 
watch the busy mother at her work. 

When tired of this, there is always a big sister, a grand- 
mother, or a grandfather ready to “ tote ” the baby up and 
down the terraces, or around the 
square within the village. Slung in 
a blanket on the backs of their at 
tendants, their big eyes and plump 
faces smiling with delight, they are 
pictures of content. Even the fathers 
and big brothers do not think it be- 
neath their dignity to trot around 
the village, giving baby a ride upon 
their backs, and the little ones crow 
and squeal over the fun. 

Slowly the bands of laborers 
return from their day’s work. The 
loads of wood are carried to the 
courtyard. The patient donkeys 
stand waiting until their loads are 
removed, when they will be watered 


STORY OF WE WA 


27 


at the spring among the rocks, and then placed in the corral. 
This corral is made of poles and rocks, upon the side of the 
mesa, around the ruins of an old church, built many, many 
years ago, while the Spaniards still ruled this curious people. 
Here, too, the cattle and sheep are confined in pens at night, 
lest they wander away, or “Honan” (the bear) or “Shahue” 
(the coyote) destroy them. 

After the cattle, and ponies, and flocks of sheep are safely 
cared for, the laborers climb the steep pathway to the top of the 
mesa, glad that their day’s work is done, and that they are free 
to rest in their little homes. Soon the house-tops are covered 
with people, chatting together and enjoying the cool evening 
air. From windows some look out upon the distant plains. 
Others sit beside their doors quietly resting before supper is 
ready. 

Smoke rises from each dwelling, where the busy house- 
wives are preparing the evening meal over fires of wood, brought 
from the distant plains, or of sage brush. Without this strange 
plant of the desert, the Indians would often suffer for want of 
fuel. It is a curious plant, something like a great oak crushed 
down nearly flat, being only about three feet high, and yet bear- 
ing flowers like the Artemisia. 

In the storerooms, girls are shelling corn ; and the rattle of 
the flat stones, where women are pounding the kernels of corn 


28 


STORY OF WEWA 


into meal, can be heard all over the village. Three women 
work side by side grinding corn. The first one breaks the ker- 



ON THE MESA. 


nels into two or three pieces ; the next woman grinds it into 
coarse meal, while the third rubs the meal between flat stones, 
until it is as line as flour. 


STORY OF WEWA 


29 


Upon one of the roofs a woman is winnowing grain. From 
an earthern bowl, held above her head, she pours the grain onto 
a blanket spread upon the house-top. The wind blows the 
chaff away, while the grain falls upon the blanket. In this way 
wheat and rye are prepared for bread, and for the market. 

The Pueblos have a curious way of threshing their grain — 
a very old-fashioned way indeed — for you can read in the Bible 
that the Jews in olden times threshed their grain in the same 
way. The ground is made smooth and hard within an enclosure, 
which is about the size of a circus ring, and formed by long 
poles driven into the ground. From pole to pole, ropes of raw- 
hide are stretched, and upon these ropes, blankets or brush are 
sometimes hung, to make the slight enclosure seem stronger. 
Then a number of horses or goats are driven round and round 
the ring, trampling the grain under their feet. Tramping all 
day, they will thresh out twenty bushels of grain, and it is then 
winnowed as you have seen. 

But now let us take another peep at the inside of little 
Wewa’s home. The room is about twenty feet square, and seven 
feet high. In one corner is the open fireplace, about which lie 
earthen dishes, large and small, and iron pots used for cooking. 
Upon one side is a large pile of pinon branches, mesquite roots, 
and sagebrush for fuel. 

Along one side of the room is the bed, made of skins and 



WINNOWING GRAIN 


STORY OF WEWA 


31 


blankets spread upon the floor. Under it are hidden the most 
precious treasures. 

From the rafters hangs the baby’s cradle, and near it are 
festoons of many-colored ears of corn, red peppers, dried meat, 
bunches of grass and feathers, blankets, and the extra clothing 
belonging to the family. The floor is of hard cement, and the 
walls are painted white, with a broad band of bright yellow 
around the room, about two feet from the floor. 

When the supper is cooked, it is placed in a great earthen 
bowl and set upon a low box or bench in the middle of the 
room. Around this the family gather, sitting upon their heels 
upon the floor, and dipping out of the dish with those queer 
little rolls of corn bread, which were baked upon hot stones, 
and which make spoons for these strange people. They finish 
their meal by eating up the spoons also. 

Outside the door a young Indian is playing upon a rude 
flute, hoping his music will please Poolitcie, Wewa’s pretty 
oldest sister. Upon a blanket, in a warm corner near the fire- 
place, Wewa’s great-grandfather sits, telling the children the 
story of Co-tu-ki-nu-ni-wa, “ The Heart of the Stars,” who is the 
“ All-wise*” or Good Spirit worshiped by these people. This is 
the story he tells them : 

“ Far above the highest cliffs, above the tallest trees which 
grow upon the mountain tops, above the highest peaks of the 


32 


STORY OF WE WA 


greatest mountains, lives Co-tu-ki-nu-ni-wa, 4 The Heart of the 
Stars! ’ He is the father of all those who dwell upon the rocks. 

44 He loves his children and would send to them nothing but 
good ; but that he cannot always do, for Balilokon is sometimes 
stronger than he, and wills evil. 

44 Now Balilokon, the 4 Spirit of Evil,’ the 4 Great Water 
Snake/ lives in all waters; in the rains and snows, the rivers and 
springs, the sap in the trees, and even in the blood in our bodies. 

44 It would not be right to always call Balilokon a Spirit of 
Evil, for sometimes he is not so. When he is pleased, the mists 
and rains fall gently and the sap runs lustily through plants 
and trees, giving them vigorous growth ; the springs and rivers 
are full, but clear, giving abundance of good water to the people 
and their flocks, and the blood flowing in our children’s veins 
is the blood of health. But Balilokon is sometimes angered and 
the rains come not at all, or in deluges that destroy the plants 
and grain ; the rivers are dry, or are raging floods sweeping 
away our flocks and our orchards ; the sap is withdrawn from 
the plants and trees and they die, and the blood of our people 
flows through their veins filled with the poison of fever. 

44 There have been times when the anger of Balilokon was 
so great that no prayers, no ceremonies, could appease. Then 
hundreds of our people went down to death. One time, away 
in the morning of the world, so many moons ago, that our oldest, 


STORY OF WE WA 


33 


wisest men cannot tell how many, he sent a great flood that 
covered nearly all the earth, and but very few of the people, 
and not many of the beasts were saved. 

“ Co-tu-ki-nu-ni-wa will always love us, and help us all he 
can, because we are his children ; but Balilokon has the power 
to do much harm and evil, so we must pray most to him.” 

This is the story often told to the little brown children of 
the Pueblos. They must learn to repeat all the traditions and 
stories of their people without a mistake. They have no written 
language, no printed hooks, no carved or engraved tablets of 
stone or metal, to tell of their beliefs and histories, their legends 
and traditions. All must be told by one generation to another. 

There are many, many legends and stories which they 
repeat in this way, for the Indian fills the mountain canon, the 
roaring, leaping river, the rocky caves, the mountain-top with 
its tall trees, the distant valley and every cliff and mesa with 
mysterious life — with strange people — giants, dwarfs, hob- 
goblins and fairies. He believes they inhabited this earth in 
vears long gone by, before man was created. 

When one of their number dies, they say that Massau, the 
King of Death, has called him, and they have many angels, or 
good spirits, whom they believe were once wise and good Indians. 
They have many images, or idols, made of clay or wood, and 
gayly painted, which they call Cachinas, and which, they say, 



Nos. 1, 2, and 7, Cacliinas. Nos. 3 and 5, Clay Gods. No. 4, Boomerang. 
No. 6, Headdress of Goddess. 





STORY OF WEWA 


35 


“ once lived in the long morning twilight of the earth’s age.” 
These gods stand in rows upon stone shelves or in little niches 
built into the walls of the rooms. 

Then they teach the children songs which they sing when 
they have their religious dances. Here is a little song to 
Balilokon when they wish rain for their corn-fields : 

“ Now come rain ! Now come rain ! 

Fall upon the mountain ; sink into the ground. 

By and by the springs are made 
Deep beneath the hills. 

There they hide and thence they come, 

Out into the light : down into the stream. 

“ Look to the hills ! Look to the hills ! 

The clouds are hanging there, 

They will not come away ; 

But look, look again. In time they will come to us 
And spread over all the pueblo.” 

Sometimes the children dance merrily in their play, and 
sing this little song, which they have heard the young men sing 
in their dances : 

“ Look at us ! Look at us ! 

Notice our endurance ! 

Watch our steps and time and grace, 

Look at us ! Look at us ! ” 


36 


STORY OF WE WA 


There are Catholic Missions still kept up among some of 
the Pueblo Indians, and some of their villages have a Chapel. 
Although the people attend the services, they still cling to their 
own religion, keep their queer images and hold religious dances. 

One of their legends tells that all men were once animals, 
or trees, or birds, and were changed by their gods into human 
beings ; but each family, or clan, still keeps its name. So there 
are the Snake family, the Antelope family, the Butterfly family, 
and many others. The Snake family is highest and best, because 
they are descendants of Balilokon ; and the Snake dance is the 
most important, and most famous part of their worship. It is 
really a plea, or prayer, to the Great Water God, for plenty of 
rain, and good crops, and is held in August of every other 
year. 

Before this dance commences, the men of the Snake family, 
and of the Antelope family, which stands next to the Snakes in 
rank, are shut up for eight days in one of the rooms with no 
opening except from the top, called an estufa, or kiva. Here 
they are given bitter medicine to drink, but no food, until the 
day of the dance. This bitter medicine is made from some 
plant or herb, known only to the Indians, and called Mah-que-ba. 
After drinking it for several days, the bite of the ugly rattle- 
snake cannot harm them. 

Six days before the dance, the Snake men go down the 


STORY OF WEWA 


37 


mesa into the desert plain eastward, and hunt among the rocks, 
sagebrush and cactus for the snakes. Upon finding one, the 
hunter tickles the angry snake with the “ bahoo ” or “ snake 
whip,” made of eagles’ feathers, until it turns to run ; then he 
snatches it up and puts it into a leather bag. On the next day 
he hunts to the north ; the third day to the west ; the fourth 
day to the south, for that is the way their traditions teach them 
to do. 

The captured snakes are kept in a room by themselves 
until the day of the dance. Around the springs and reservoirs 
the Antelope men scatter “ prayer sticks.” These are little 
sticks with small feathers fastened to them, and they call each 
feather a prayer. Then they gather branches of cottonwood 
and build a little tent with a blanket for the door, which they 
call a “ boskay.” In this the leather bag filled with snakes 
is placed. Just in front of the boskay a shallow hole is dug 
and an old blanket laid over it. This hole represents Shi-pa-pu, 
the great “ Block Lake of Tears,” a name so sacred to the 
Indian, that he never speaks it aloud, for from this lake, their 
legends say, the human race first came. 

Not far from the snake tent, or “boskay,” stands the 
sacred rock around which the dancers must pass. This rock was 
formed ages ago, when the great mesa was overflowed, and the 
washing of waves wore it away, leaving it in its present shape. 



STORY OF WEWA 


39 


When the day of the dance arrives the Indians of the 
Snake order comb out their long hair, and fasten eagle plumes 
upon their heads. Then they put on a short skirt made of 
deer-skin, fringed moccasins upon their feet, and tie a rattle, 
made of turtle shells and sheep’s toe-nails, above their knees. 
A fox skin is fastened to the belt, hanging down behind, 
and the Indian dancer steps proudly out, dressed in all his 
finery. 

The Antelope order march in first, led by their chief and 
with long sashes tied about their waists. They stand in line 
beside the boskay, waiting for the Snake dancers. Then enters 
the leader of the Snake dancers, followed by his men, and stand- 
ing before the Antelopes they chant their song to Balilokon. 
The priests now sprinkle the sacred rock with water, and the 
snakes are sprinkled with meal. Each snake dancer then takes 
a snake in his hand, or in his mouth, holding it just back of its 
head, and the great dance begins. 

All the roofs and terraces are covered with people watching 
this great dance, but only the Snake and Antelope orders take 
part in it. Some of the dancers are little boys, only four and 
five years old, and they think it a great honor to take part in 
this ceremony. Should one of the snakes get away, and go 
squirming toward the spectators, there would be a great scram- 
bling to get out of its way ; for only those who drink 


40 


STORY OF WEWA 


the bitter medicine are unharmed by the bite of this ugly 
creature. 

In the evening, after the dance is ended, the snake dancers 
carry the snakes far out upon the desert, and let them go ; for 
it would be a crime for any of them to kill a snake. Sometimes 
a very large rattlesnake is confined in some rocky cave, and 
kept there several years, the Indians feeding it with meal once 
a year. 

These Indians hold a Christmas dance on the twenty-second 
of December, in honor of their Sun God. Only a few men 
dance this, and they are of the Sun order; but there is the 
harvest dance, in August, in which all take part. It is called 
the Tablita, or Corn Dance, and is the only ceremony in which 
the women take part. It is one of their happiest days, the 
gayest festival of the year, the day when all the weddings take 
place, and there are cakes, candies, and fruit, besides all the 
good dishes the Indian woman knows how to cook. 

The women wear curious head-dresses, with pictures of 
clouds, lightning, and their favorite snake painted upon them. 
They always paint the snake with clouds and lightning around 
it, for they say the lightning is caused by the snake striking the 
clouds with his tail, and the thunder is the sound of the blow. 

Branches of pine or cedar are carried by the women, who 
wear their best dresses, all their coral, turquoise and silver beads, 


STORY OF WEWA 


41 


and new boots or leggins. These leggins are made of pure 
white deer skin, cut in long strips and wound round and round 
the ankles. They make a complete covering, so thick and strong 
that no angry rattlesnake can strike his deadly fangs through 
into the flesh. 

The men dress much as they do for the snake dance, except 
a few who dress as clowns and make a great deal of sport for 
the rest. 

After the dance is over, they have foot races, pony races, 
chicken races, and games of ball. There is no quarrelling, no 
angry words, and no drunkenness. They are a people without 
lawyers or jails, without crimes or punishments ; patient, peace- 
ful, industrious and moral. 

There is one other festival kept by the Indians, which is a 
day of peace and rest, and of quiet visiting among themselves. 
This is their Day of the Dead, a day when they visit their desolate 
cemeteries, just as we do on Memorial Day, but instead of dec- 
orating the graves with flowers, as we do, they carry baskets of 
food with them. When the Spaniards first saw these Indians, 
hundreds of years ago, they celebrated this “Day of the Dead,'’ 
and the Spaniards called it the “ Fiesta de los Muertos ,” mean- 
ing feast, or festival, of the dead. 

Three days before this festival begins, the Indian women 
build fires in those queer mud ovens. When the inside is very 


42 


STORY OF WEWA 



hot, the coals and ashes are swept out, the floor of the oven 
is washed with a little mop, and bread and cakes made in many 
shapes, are placed inside. The door is then closed with a large, 
flat stone, and sealed with mud. After a time the bread and 
cakes are taken out, crisp and delicious, ready for the feast. 


ARRANGING THE HAIR. 

At dawn, upon the Day of the Dead, the old, white-haired 
Indian who acts as sexton, climbs to the towers of the church, 
and strikes with a hammer upon the bells hanging in the arches. 
There are no ropes to ring the bells, and no tongues inside them. 


STORY OF WEWA 


43 


They are remnants of bygone days, and no one living remembers 
when the Spanish placed them there. 

When the bells begin to ring, you will see the people com- 
ing out upon the roofs, and terraces, of their strange dwellings. 
The women wash their long, soft, black hair, and carefully ar- 
range it for each other. The married women comb it across 
their foreheads, while the young women twist theirs into a 
strange puff upon each side, which looks very much like a cart- 
wheel, or a squash-blossom. 

Along the great square of the village, long lines of women 
soon begin to come, dressed in their finest clothing, and wear- 
ing all their jewelry and ornaments. Each woman bears upon 
her head a beautifully woven basket, filled with the bread and 
cakes she has made. Beside these there are funny little turn- 
overs filled with stewed dried peaches ; dried bunches of grapes, 
sweet as raisins ; watermelons, whole or sliced ; peaches, quinces, 
pears, apples and onions, while ears of corn stand up in a row 
around the edge of the basket. 

Slowly the procession marches through the gate in the 
wall, at the hack of the church, which is the entrance to their 
strange cemetery. There are no headstones here, no grass 
grown mounds, just a smooth gravel surface, but each woman 
seems to know just where the bones of her loved ones are 
buried. Going to the spot, she sets down her basket upon the 


44 


STORY OF WEWA 


grave, kneels beside it, and lights a number of candles around 
the basket. Then she covers her head with her blanket or shawl 
and weeps quietly, while, as she really believes, the spirits of 
her loved ones come and eat of the dainties she has brought. 

Soon the priest comes from the little chapel, pauses at each 
grave, sprinkles holy water upon it, and repeats a prayer for the 
dead. As he passes to the next, the woman rises, places her 
basket on her head, and carries it to the house of the priest, 
and gives its contents to his housekeeper. The food given to 
the priest at this festival fills a large store-room, and the padre’s 
(priest) housekeeper will not need to bake for a long time. 

With the blessing of the last grave, the services of the 
Day of the Dead close, and the people of the village settle 
down to enjoy a day of rest. This is something rare with them, 
for they are a very industrious people, and always busy with 
their farms, their orchards, their houses, and their spinning and 
weaving, except on their few holidays. 

Thus little Wewa and his friends lead very quiet, unevent- 
ful lives ; but one bright day in summer something very strange 
and unusual happened in his village, of which I must tell you. 
The children had seen a great many white people — the Indian 
Agents, the census takers, the soldiers crossing the plains, and 
sometimes white people came just to visit these curious villages 
perched like swallows’ nests upon the cliffs, and to see the 


STORY OF WEWA 


45 


strange people who chose to live so high upon the mountain 
side. They cared little about these people, who spoke a strange 
language, and came from another world, so the children thought. 
But on this particular morning it was different. 

The children were playing in the square, some chasing the 
dogs and cats and chickens, or climbing on the back of some 
patient little burro for a ride. Others ran over the terraces 
and housetops, careless of the peaches and pumpkins spread out 
to dry. Still others, among them little Wewa and his chum 
Arna, were just going down the steep roadway to play by the 
reservoir, and run out upon the plain. Their mother called to 
them, warning them to be very careful, lest Chia — the rattle- 
snake — bite them, and Arna’s mother called to them again 
saying : “ Do not go far out upon the plain, Pa-puk-ke-wis may 
carry you away to his cave in the great mountains.” 

The little boys promised to be careful. They were not much 
afraid of Chia, the medicine man could cure his bite ; but Pa- 
puk-ke-wis, that was different. Did not every one remember 
how little Tahia ran out upon the plains one evening, and was 
never seen again? Of course Pa-puk-ke-wis (the Wild Man of 
the Plains) had taken him ; no one doubted that, so they would 
be sure not to wander far, and away they scampered. 

Down at the foot of the mesa, stood a cart with which some 
of the men were about to draw hay to the corrals. The boys 


46 


STOltY OF WEWA 


were eager to take a ride, but coming up the steep path were a 
number of white men, and down on the plain stood a wagon, 
with a number of children in it, and white men standing 
beside it. 

Wewa and Arna ran back to their homes, eager to tell 
their mothers of the visitors. Eona, Arna’s sister, came run- 
ning to look at the strangers who were now standing in the 
square, talking with La-lo-la-my, the governor of the village. 
The children wondered what they were talking about, and 
why old La-lo-la-my shook his head and looked so sad and 
stern. Soon all the people of the village were called into 
the square, and the governor told them that the white men 
were agents sent by the Government of the United States to 
take their children, and place them in the Indian School not 
far away. 

Then what an outcry arose ! The mothers gathered their 
children around them, scolding and crying all together. The 
fathers talked angrily to the agents. “ Why,” they said, “ should 
our children be taken from our homes to the white man’s school, 
and taught the things we care nothing about? Our lands, 
our homes, our customs and our religion are our own. Our 
forefathers left them to us. They have belonged to our people 
for many ages, long before the white man came here. We do 
not drive the white man from his lands, we do not take away 


STORY OF WEWA 


47 


his springs and the valleys where he pastures his cattle; but all 
this the white man has done to the Indian, and now he wishes 
to take away our children. It cannot be ! 

“ We are willing our children should be taught to speak, 
and read, and write the language of the white man, that they 
may be able to deal with him and not be cheated ; but we are 
not willing they should be taught to despise the religion and 
customs of their own people. 

“ If you will build a school near our village so that our 
children may return to their own homes at night, as the children 
of the white men do, we will let them go ; but we do not want 
them taken so far away from us.” 

But the agents would not listen. They had been sent to 
do this work, and the children must go. The little ones ran 
and hid, but the men found them. They took them in their 
arms, carried them down to the plain, and put them in the 
wagons, around which was a guard of the soldiers. Some of 
the fathers tried to take the children from the wagons, but 
these the soldiers arrested, and they were afterwards made to 
work upon the roads. 

The little children were taken several miles away, and 
placed in the school. Here the teachers were very kind to 
them. A nice warm supper was waiting for them, and they had 
clean little beds to sleep in, instead of skins and blankets on the 


48 


STORY OF WEWA 


floor. After a few days they played merrily with the other 
children, and seemed to enjoy their new life. 

After they had been at the school about a week, their 
mothers came riding over to see them, and brought them 
melons, peaches and little cakes. The teachers made the 
mothers welcome, and showed them all through the rooms. When 
they saw how happy their children looked, and what pleasant 
rooms they lived in, they returned to their homes feeling much 
better satisfied with the white man’s school. 

But the older Indians say that the children who are sent 
away to school are never content at home afterwards. They 
do not like to go to work, but would rather stand around, and 
they think themselves much better than those of their people 
who have no education. It makes them lazy, and the Pueblo 
Indian hates laziness. He is not like the wild Indians of the 
plains, who would rather steal than work. 

Perhaps it will not be that way with Wewa and Arna. 
Let us hope they may grow wiser and better at the school, 
learning good ways, and not evil ones, from the white people. 
Looking back once more at the queer village perched upon the 
rocks, like the nest of the eagle which they often capture and 
keep in cages, we will wish for our little Indian friends and for 
their gentle, patient people peace and happiness. 












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